Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Contact

Episode Date: December 29, 2021

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The conditions apply. Talk to nicely. One day they were just there. I remember where I was when they appeared. Everyone does. I was at work, stocking the truck up to go fix a broken dryer in South Austin. I suddenly realized that the ever-present sounds of work at the warehouse, the whir of electric drills, the clang of an appliance's metal body being removed,

the constant chatter of the employees had died down. down. I walked through the open bay door and into the main warehouse to see everyone gathered in a corner, looking up at the old, dusty flat-screen television affixed to the exposed wooden struts on the wall. The volume was too low for me to hear anything more than a murmur from the talking head on screen. When I saw Mark, my slave driver of a boss, looking up at the television, I knew something big was going down. I approached the others, walking past washers and dryers and friages in various states of repair at the different workstations. As I got closer, the newscaster's voice cleared. These objects appear today at the same time all over the world. The man with quaffed hair and a

reassuringly neutral voice said, we have reports of them appearing on street corners, in homes, in office buildings, parking lots, apartment buildings, and restaurants. Again, we have no official word as to their nature or where they came from. Given the nature of their arrival, many are positing that these objects are not terrestrial in origin, but that's only a guess at this point. We'll bring you more on this story as it develops. An on-scene reporter came on screen, sharing the space with the man in the studio. It was a blonde woman who was standing in front of a crowd of people on a busy street.

corner. What the hell is going on? I asked my friend Sylvan, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned to me, eyes wide in disbelief. His usual mischievous smile gone. James, you're still here. No one knows, man, he said. These things just showed up out of nowhere like an hour ago. They showed up all over the world, man. Twitter is going nuts with it. It's all anyone's talking about. are they? I asked. Sylvan shook his head. No one knows. I mean, what do they look like? I interrupted, glancing between Sylvan and the television screen where the newscasters were just saying the same things over again in different words. Some reports say they're like black, orbs or something, Sylvan said. But that's the thing. They're telling people not to look at them.

What? Why? I don't know, man. Something about how they could be a threat. some kind of weapon. They're trying to block them off so the military or scientists or whatever can study them to try to find out what they're for. I said, whispering the words in awe. Yeah, bro. I'm not saying it's aliens, but it's aliens. My cell phone rang. It was my girlfriend, Rachel. She was scared. I was scared too. That was three days ago. Nothing cataclysmic has happened in the days since, at least, nothing we've been told about. Of course, just after the appearance, the internet was flooded with photos and videos people took of the orbs before government officials came in and took over.

It's strange. In all the footage, they look like shiny black circles floating in the air, about the size of a beach ball. There are unconfirmed reports of people getting close to enough to touch them. There are rumors of people having their arms chopped off, others having their wildest dreams come true, and still others going insane from getting too close. I don't know what to believe. Most of it is probably bullshit. There was an incident in London where a bunch of people bum rushed one of the locations. Quarantine stations, they call them. The military there mowed them down. They killed over 20 people just because they wanted to see one of the orbs for themselves. Surely they're under constant visual and audio surveillance, but they're not releasing any of the

footage to the people, no matter how much we want it. All we have to go on is a bunch of amateur footage taken on the day, and many of the photos and videos making their way around the internet have been fake. Some people think that there are still some orbs out there that not one has found. People have been wandering around in the forests and deserts and grasslands, looking for undiscovered orbs, just so they can get close to one, so they can find out what they're for, what they do. Not knowing is a special kind of torture. It's almost all I can think about. The only respite I get is when I'm asleep. But even then, I've had dreams that I was allowed into a quarantine station to look at one of them. I always have been.

Always wake up just before I step into the chamber. And I'm not alone. The population seems to be split, half trying to ignore the appearance and the other half, clambering for information, footage, and an explanation. My girlfriend, Rachel, thinks I need to let it go. She's a denier, as we call them. I'm a truther.

We've had a couple of fights over it, but I still love her. She still loves me. We just disagree on this thing. She doesn't understand this need I have. I need to see one. I just need to. I know if I'm allowed to get close to an orb, everything will become clear.

In the meantime, I still need to make a living. Even though work now seems like some kind of sick joke, nothing has truly changed. It feels like everything has changed, but nothing has. That's what makes this so hard. The appearance is proof of something, something more, something else. But until we're allowed to see, until we really know why they're keeping us from the orbs, there's nothing much we can do.

Some people have quit their jobs and gone to camp out near one of the quarantine stations, but they're the most desperate, the most rock bottom, and the most fanatical religious freaks who think the appearance precedes the coming of whatever God they happen to believe in. And who am I to say? Maybe they're right. At this point, anything's possible. But until something else happens,

I still need money to pay for food and for the roof over mine and Rachel's heads. So here I am, driving to fix a refrigerator in Austin's West Lake Hills neighborhood. I'm listening to a news show on the radio. They're talking about relations with China or some other such nonsense when they break in with a bulletin. Apparently, some of the orbs have started disappearing from quarantine stations around the

world. Just there one second, gone the next. No one knows why this is, or where they're going, course. If they do know, they're not telling the public. I feel a deep depression settle over me. We've missed our chance, whatever their purpose, the orbs are disappearing. Perhaps we're not worthy. I feel that they'll all soon be gone, but I can't go back to the way things were. I can't. I'm right on time as I pull up to the house.

I shut off the engine and rally my energy to get this done, no matter how much I want to drive off and crash through a quarantine station's boundary to get one in-person glimpse of an orb. Just one goddamn glimpse. Is that so much to ask? I get out of my truck, grab my tool kit and walk up with the home.

It's a nice house, as most of them are in this upscale neighborhood. It's two stories tall, with the tan trim and rock siding all around it. I ring the doorbell. A few long moments pass before a woman in her mid-forties opens the door. She's smiling politely and gesturing for me to come inside. As we walk, she explains when the fridge stopped cooling. I nod as she explains, but my heart isn't in it. I feel almost heartbroken, abandoned, betrayed.

I feel that humanity once again has been too stupid to take its own salvation seriously. Now the orbs are leaving. We've missed our chance. She shows me to the refrigerator, a big silver three door. I find myself alone in the kitchen. the woman having left me to my work. I open the fridge doors and feel inside with my hand. I shut the doors and start the process of pulling the fridge out from its space between the wall and the cabinets.

The lights flicker in the house, and I stop pulling the fridge, afraid that I've somehow caused the electrical malfunction, however unlikely that is. Somewhere in the house, the woman makes a surprised sound. It's brief. and I attribute it to the flickering of the lights, which has already stopped. Something suddenly feels different in the house. I can't put my finger on it. It's a change in the air of the place.

Maybe a cloud bag has rolled between the sun and the house, dimming the light falling on this part of the Texas Hill country. I shrug it off and finish pulling the fridge out. I unplug it, and get down behind it to check on the compressor, when a loud crack sounds in the house, followed quickly by a thud. My heart scrambles as I realized the crack was a gunshot, and the thud, in all likelihood, a body collapsing to the floor. Hello? I call out. Ma'am, was that you?

There's no answer. Hello? I call out again. Ma'am, are you all right? No answer. The house is as silent as the vacuum of space. Leave my tools behind and move hesitantly out of the kitchen, calling every few seconds as I go. I'm certain the shot and the thump came from upstairs. So I head up the stairway, past family pictures lining the wall. There's a hallway at the top of the stairs.

I'm fairly certain the noises came from the left, so I move that way. I call out once more as I head down the hallway. Still no answer. The door to the master bedroom is cracked, leaving a gap of about four inches. I knock on the door and call out. Hello? When I get no answer, I try to ignore the disruptive thudding of my heart as I push open the door. The woman is lying face down on the floor.

The left side of her skull is gone, leaving a gory, gaping hole. The floor next to her head is stained with blood and grayish lumps. A revolver is gripped loosely in her right hand. Her brains and skull fragments are arrayed in a widening spray across a bottom corner of the bed she'd been standing next to when she pulled the trigger. My stomach clenches, and I swallow bile that comes up my throat. I spin away from the door, determined to get away, and come face to face with a floating black orb.

I suck in breath, frightened by its appearance in the hallway. I take a step back, but my eyes are locked on it. I stop, and all my focus concentrates on my eyes, leaving all other senses to fade into the background. At first, the complete darkness of the orb is all I notice. But I soon see that there's something in there, something that looks like me. I take a step forward and look closer.

The orb pulls me in, and I fall without falling. I scream without making a sound. I'm transported to my apartment. Rachel is here. But there's something wrong. Something's at the door. She's pressed up against the door,

screaming at me to help her as the door flexes inward, while a cacophony of inhuman sounds emanates from the hallway. I try to move, but an infuriating dreamlike slowness seems to surround me, hampering my movements while everything else happens in real time. A glance out of our seventh floor apartment window shows me a changed Austin cityscape. Inverted black pyramids sit unmoving in the sky, the clouds pushing up against them and moving around. There must be hundreds of the spaceships.

One floats down on top of a nearby hotel, piercing the roof with its point and splitting the building in slow motion. I'm close enough to see people jumping out of the window as the ship smashes the building from the top down. Rachel screams at me again, and I turn back to her, moving as if stuck in gelatin. Green black tentacles squirm under the door, undulating violently as they try to locate Rachel. One touches her left calf and latches on. Rachel feels its touch and flings herself away from the door in horror. But the tentacle stretches taut, preventing her from moving more than a few feet.

Help me, James! She cries. It hurts. Something rolls up the tentacle, a lump traversing the slimy appendage. The lump reaches Rachel's leg, which explodes from the inside out, sending blood and bones splatting against the walls and furniture. Rachel falls to the floor, her foot, and the lower half of her shin, lying amid an expanding pool of blood pumping steadily out of her wound.

The door slams open to reveal a mass of squirming tentacles filling the doorway. Small eyes appear here and there at the end of the slithering tendrils, disappearing almost as fast as they come. A yell, but no sound comes. I move, my muscles burning with the effort, but I get no closer. Two dozen tentacles reach into the room and snatch Rachel up from the ground, holding her up so she's facing me. Some of the appendages dig through her body, popping out the other side to wave at me, while Rachel screams and screams and so.

Screens! Others go to her fingers, snapping them first, and then ripping them off, tossing them aside like the bones of a chicken wing. Rachel convulses and her eyes bulge out before popping out of their sockets, pushed out by two tentacles. I'm paralyzed with sickness, as if all my emotions are limited, just as my physical movement is. The monster thrusts Rachel's convulsing body at me, bringing her bloody and pain-distorted face close to mine. The tentacles coming out of her eye sockets pierce my skull, shoving my eyes aside like errant marbles in a child's game. The pain is like nothing I've ever felt before.

The slimy, blood-coded appendages reach into my brain, and my world disappears, replaced by a pain so thorough and complete that everything loses meaning. Everything, but the mental and physical agony that makes every breath a measure of years. With every heartbeat comes a wish for death. I pray that Rachel isn't experiencing what I am. I pray she's dead and that I can join her.

But death doesn't come. After what seems like years of torment, I'm writ through swirling space to a place that's not a place at all. I have no body here. I'm just a presence. Witnessing. Witnessing the amassing of an army. an army of those tentacled creatures. I see into the mind of one of these beings,

and I see their will. I see their plan to take over Earth, and I know it will work. There's no doubt. Only a calm, unending confidence that they will destroy humanity and take over. For several seemingly unending moments, I am one of these creatures,

and I look down upon humanity with a disgust, unmatched, by even the strongest of human emotions. I see how they look at us, piddling around on our little blue sphere, oblivious to the true nature of the universe. Then I'm ripped away from that mind, thrown through the swirling, chaotic realm between time and reality.

I collapsed to my knees in the upstairs hallway of the house and Westlake hills, sobbing uncontrollably. I vomit onto the carpet before I think to look up for the orb. It's gone. I turn around on my hands and knees, sobbing quietly, and look back into the master bedroom. The woman is still there. Her brains still splattered across half the room.

I gag and wrench my eyes shut, willing the sight out of my brain. I get to my feet, my back to the open bedroom door, and pull out my phone. I call Rachel, willing her. her to be alive, to pick up the phone. Hey. She says. Thank God. I say in a husky voice, barely controlling my sobs.

James? What's wrong? Are you at home? I ask. A sudden certainty of action filling my mind. Yeah. I just got back from work. What's going on?

Just stay there. Please. I'll be there soon. James. I hang up before she can argue. I run down the stairs and out the door. of the house, leaving my tools behind. I won't be needing them anymore. I just hope I get there in time. I jam the truck into drive and pull a U-turn to head out of the neighborhood, the tire screeching,

and the engine growling. A woman runs screaming out of one of the houses lining the street. She tries to make me stop, waving her arms and yelling hysterics. I have to swerve to miss her. I look in my side mirror as I drive away, seeing a man run out of the house after the woman. His body language is threatening, but I find that I don't care. They've probably seen into an orb too. They're on their own. There's nothing we can do to fight them. And if they're having a marital spat, it won't matter soon.

Nothing will. I turn out of the neighborhood, getting on Loop 360 to head home. I'm driving fast to get there. But a few cars zoomed past me, going over 100 miles per hour. I passed two wrecks and one man that has pulled his Ford truck over to the side of the road. He has a gun in his hand and seems to be talking to himself. I realize the radio is still on, but I've been tuning it out. I can't stop thinking about what those monsters did to Rachel, what they did to me.

I know that these things haven't happened yet, but the experience was so real that I can still feel pain residing throughout my entire body. So what they've already done to us and what they're going to do are one and the same. And there's only one way to avoid it. The man on the radio is speaking fast. He's telling everyone to stay calm. He's saying that the orbs have started moving, appearing in front of people all around the world, in their homes, at sporting events,

at malls and nail salons, and in skyscrapers. He says we shouldn't look at the orbs, that we should close our eyes and move away, that they want us to look into the... the orbs. That's why they sent them to Earth. I can tell that the radio man hasn't seen what I've seen. The orbs are a mercy. They're a way of saying we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Because there's no winning, not against them. There are cops everywhere as I approach downtown. I see them wrestling people to the ground, zooming after speeders, and dressed in riot

gear in front of banks. The world has gone insane. because more and more people are seeing the truth. I take up two parking spots in my building's parking garage and run up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. With a shaking hand, I slide the key into my apartment door. But before I can get it open, Rachel unlocks it and pulls open the door. Oh, thank God you're okay, she says, wrapping me in a hug. I swing the door shut behind me and lock it with one hand.

What's happening out there? Rachel asks. They say the orbs are moving now. She pulls away and looks at me as she asks the questions. Tears streamed down my face as I look at her. What's wrong? Why are you crying, James? James?

I've seen them, I say. I've seen what they do to you. To us. I can't. What? James, did you look into one of them? Did you? She's backing away from me, but I stay with her, my hands on her shoulders.

They're coming, I say. They'll be here soon. Ow! James, you're hurting my shoulders, she says. Let go! You don't understand, Rachel. You haven't seen it. Let me go! She screams. Help me! I look over her right shoulder and out the window,

seeing a black inverted pyramid floating in the sky over downtown Austin. Oh, God! I say, They're here. Rachel stopped squirming in my grasp for a moment to turn her head and look out the window. My hands slide up her shoulders to grip her neck. She whips her head back around to me,

surprise and terror on her face. There's nothing. I cut her words off as my grip, tightens around her throat. I'm sorry, I say between sobs, my forearms bulging as I squeeze her neck. I force her down to the ground. my tears dripping on her beautiful face as it changes colors.

Her eyes bulge out toward me, and I half expect them to pop out, followed by disgusting black-green tentacles. She makes little whimpering sounds and bats futilely at my face and arms. I let up for a moment. A voice inside me screaming for me to stop. A brief clarity descends on me,

and I loosen my grip on Rachel's neck further. She pulls in a ragged breath. A banging sound comes from the front door of our apartment, and everything closes in on me again. I cry out and redouble my efforts, leaning down on Rachel's throat, feeling it's start to give. You can't have her! I yell toward the door. I won't let you! I need to make this quick so I can kill myself before the monster breaks in.

But the important part is Rachel. I need to make sure they don't get her. I couldn't stand that. The banging at the door grows louder, more insistent. There's a voice there, a familiar voice. But I know it's just a trick. They're smart ones and vicious. I feel a crunch under my hands and look down to see that I've collapsed Rachel's windpipe.

I yank my hands away from her throat, as if it's scalding to the touch. I scramble off of her and stand up, looking around, thinking of the best way to kill myself. I run to the kitchen, just as I hear the front door crash in. I grab a sharp blade from the knife block and manage to stab it down into the underside of my forearm before the tentacles are upon me, yanking my hand away from the knife handle. What the fuck are you doing? The monster says from behind me, it's using my neighbor Dan's voice. I struggle to get free, but the monster shoves me down to the floor on my back.

I look up into Dan's face. His brother, Seth, is there too, helping to hold me down. You killed Rachel, Dan says. His voice lacking any depth of emotion. She's dead. What? I say, not understanding what's happening. Dan, let me go.

They're here. They're here. Let me finish. The knife is still in my arm, but I barely feel it. Dan finds a clean towel, takes out the knife, and wraps the wound with the towel. I continue to plead with them, but I eventually go quiet,

waiting for the real monsters to show up. It's not real, you know, Seth says, still holding me down. You did exactly what they wanted you to. It's not real. That's what they're saying. The government, scientists. It's not real. It is, I say, I've seen it. I felt it. It's real. When the police finally show up and arrest me, I get a chance to look out the window. The black pyramid is gone. I wonder if it was ever there to begin with. I wasn't the only one to take action in response to the orbs. In the months that followed my arrest, more and more stories came out about the things people

did after they saw into the orbs. Once the word got out, most people simply refused to look into one of them. Some of those that did look into the orbs didn't do anything at all. They convinced themselves that it was all a trick, despite having seen and felt and experienced it all. But most people took action. They robbed banks or drove their cars into brick walls or killed their loved ones or drank themselves into a stupor or shot themselves in the head, much like the woman with the broken fridge did. Congress had to approve the building of new facilities for people like me.

Putting us in with regular old criminals wasn't the thing to do apparently. We're special. We have regular doctor visits and group therapy sessions and we're constantly under observation. For the first month, I was convinced that those creatures would show up any day. I tried to kill myself a dozen or more times, but the guards and doctors were ready for it. They didn't leave me with anything that would do the job effectively. Now, six months since the day everything changed, I still believe they'll show up one day. I have to believe that.

But that's not what I tell the doctors. Now, I tell them what they want to hear, that it was all a trick designed to get us to kill each other, or an experiment, to see how we reacted. If it was a trick, only a few million people fell for it around the world, not enough to make a difference. If it was an experiment to see how advanced we are as a species, then we failed miserably. I don't have a window in my cell, but I get to go out into the yard for two hours every day. The first thing I do is look around for a black upside-down pyramid in the sky. I feel a deep disappointment every time I don't see one, but I don't tell anyone that. The truth is, I want them to come.

I want them to invade to take over the planet. Maybe they'll do a better job with it than we have. But the real reason I want them to come is so I can be right, so I didn't kill Rachel for nothing. It took me a long time to come to terms with that fact. The fact that I'd be perfectly happy to see the end of humanity if it would make the terrible thing I've done okay. So I'll keep looking for the pyramids. I'll keep having nightmares about the tentacled monsters

killing Rachel and then myself. And I'll keep picturing the way Rachel looked when I was killing her. I'll keep hoping for the end of it all. You know, we really are a strange speed. species.